


His Worst Fear

by Attenia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 13:02:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18121265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attenia/pseuds/Attenia
Summary: After the war, Ron's worst fear is no longer spiders. Hermione tries to comfort him after a disastrous encounter with a Boggart.





	His Worst Fear

Harry  
Harry observed with amusement as Ron and Hermione exchanged a look he knew well. It was quite obvious what they were up to, despite their attempts to be subtle about it.  
“Well, I’m tired, I think I’ll head to bed.” Ron gave an exaggerated yawn, kissing Hermione and clapping Harry on the shoulder before ambling off. Grimmauld Place was unrecognizable. In the weeks since the end of the war, they’d all worked hard to turn the place into a real home. Eventually, Ron and Hermione would get their own place, but Harry was in no hurry for that to happen.  
Hermione stayed bent over the long letter she was writing to the Ministry about S.P.E.W, but Harry saw her eyes flick to Ron’s retreating back.  
“You know, you two don’t have to sneak off to be alone. I don’t have a problem with it; you know that.”  
Hermione blushed slightly. “Thanks, Harry. Why don’t you go to bed too, we’ve all had a long day.”  
He couldn’t dispute that. The number of nasty things they’d removed from the house defied counting, but every day, they seemed to find something new that either lurked, crawled or scuttled.  
“Alright, ‘night then. Don’t take too long – Ron’s waiting for you.”  
He grinned as Hermione blushed a deeper shade of pink. “I’ll be up in a minute, I just want to finish this letter.”  
Harry ambled happily from the kitchen toward his bedroom, stopping by the bathroom on the way, a bathroom that was now usable without having to check the ceiling for spiders. He was just washing his hands when a scream rang through the house. Harry would recognize that scream anywhere; it was one he’d hoped never to hear again. Hermione.  
Splashing water everywhere, he pelted out of the bathroom, following the sound to a small room they had yet to fully investigate for anything dangerous.  
Inside, Hermione was lying on her back, writhing and shrieking in what was obviously excruciating pain. Ron knelt by her side, desperately trying to help. “Hermione! No, no, please, don’t do this… hurt me instead, please!” Ron stared wildly around, begging whatever invisible assailant was tormenting her, his hands fluttering uselessly over her body.  
Harry pulled his wand from his pocket, quickly lighting the tip and staring around the room. There was no one else here, but just to be sure, he murmured, “Homenum Revelio!” As he’d expected, there was no one else, and thus no one who could be the cause of Hermione’s distress.  
He threw himself to the floor next to Ron and frantically examined Hermione for some kind of wound. Her screams pierced through him like a knife, but that was nothing to what they were doing to Ron. His best friend was completely falling apart, clutching Hermione’s hand and begging her to tell him what was wrong, his eyes wide and wild, making him look on the edge of sanity.  
Harry desperately tried to think. Was it something she’d eaten? No, they’d all had the same thing for supper. An internal injury? If it was, they needed to get her to St Mungo’s fast, because he had no idea how to treat that.  
Ron fell back onto his heels, his hands tearing at his hair, coming away with bloody chunks of hair still attached to flesh. He was screaming almost as badly as Hermione was now, his horrified eyes fixed on her. Harry turned his attention to his friend, realizing that if he didn’t get Ron out of here, he may very well go insane before they could find a way to help Hermione.  
He’d just gotten up with the intent of dragging Ron away when the door – which had swung closed when Harry entered – burst open.  
“What’s going on here!” Hermione was silhouetted in the doorway, her wand in her hand. Harry gaped at her, staring between her and the Hermione on the floor, who was still screaming as though having her skin torn off.  
Hermione seemed to understand instantly. She pointed her wand at the image of herself on the floor and said clearly, “Riddikulus.” At once, the screams as well as the fake Hermione vanished. Harry understood, then. A Boggart. It was just a Boggart.  
Ron didn’t seem to have noticed that the Boggart was gone. He was still staring at the spot it had lain, his screams just as agonizing as Hermione’s had been. Harry moved forward, not sure what he was planning to do to comfort Ron, but Hermione grabbed his arm.  
“Let me deal with this, Harry.”  
He nodded in relief, knowing that this was much more Hermione’s area of expertise than his. At a gesture from her, he left, pausing at the door. “Call if you need me. I’ll be in my bedroom.”  
“Yes, yes, thank you, Harry. You go on, now.”  
He did as she said, trying to wipe the image of his two best friends screaming in agony from his mind.

Hermione  
“Ron. Ron, look at me!”  
Ron was so far gone in whatever nightmarish scene was going on in his head that he didn’t seem to see her. Hermione tried to disentangle his hands from his hair, where he was still yanking at the skin and causing minor bleeding wounds, but his fingers were too tight for her to budge.  
“Ronald Weasley!” She grabbed his shoulders and shook him so hard that his head whipped back and forth.  
His eyes focused and he stared at her, his screaming abruptly ending. “Hermione?” he whispered, blinking as though expecting her to disappear.  
“I’m here, I’m ok, Ron. It wasn’t real, it was a Boggart, just a stupid Boggart.”  
The tears were still streaming down his face and he was shaking so badly that had he not already been on the floor, Hermione would have feared he’d fall over. “You’re ok?” His voice was hoarse from screaming, and he grabbed her arms tightly. “You’re not hurt?”  
“I’m not hurt,” Hermione soothed. “Everything is alright.”  
Ron’s face slowly crumpled and he fell into her. Hermione had been expecting it and gently lowered him so that they were lying side by side on the floor. Sobs shook Ron’s body and she could do nothing but hold him.  
“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I should have realized – Boggart – didn’t think –”  
“Ssh, it’s ok, don’t worry about it. It could happen to anyone. You had no reason to expect it. This is the first time you’ve encountered a Boggart since before, isn’t it?”  
He nodded, or at least she thought he did; it could simply have been the violent shaking that still hadn’t ceased. “It was always the spider before. I should have known it had changed, though. My dreams… nightmares, really… it’s always the same. Of course, the Boggart would change too.”  
Hermione winced, wishing more than ever that she’d been able to hold back her screams when Bellatrix had tortured her. She certainly had her own nightmares about it, but she hated that Ron was suffering from it too – apparently worse than even she was.  
“We’re safe now. I’m safe. No one wants to hurt us anymore.”  
Ron’s grip on her arms was cutting off her circulation, but Hermione didn’t complain. She didn’t know how long they lay there for as Ron’s sobs and shaking gradually subsided. He was still so pale that she suspected if he were to try to stand, he’d fall over, so they stayed where they were.  
“Do you want to talk about it?” Hermione asked softly.  
Ron shook his head jerkily. “Don’t even want to think about it. Boggart managed to mess that up.”  
They lay in silence for a while longer before Hermione decided he was well enough to move. “Come on, let’s go to our bedroom. We don’t know what else might be lurking in here, and I need to take a look at your head. The wounds don’t look deep, but they should be cleaned up just the same.”  
Ron tried to stand only to have his knees collapse. Hermione tried to pull him up, but she wasn’t strong enough to take his full weight, and he didn’t seem capable of doing it himself. She could use magic to levitate him, but with Ron in such a fragile state, she was hesitant to do that, lest it bring back bad memories of previous battles.  
“Just hang on a minute, I’m going to get Harry to help us.”  
Hermione had barely stepped out of the room when she heard Ron’s panicked shout. “Hermione? HERMIONE!”  
“I’m here, I’m here.” She rushed back in and grabbed Ron’s wrists before he could start tearing at his hair again. “I just stepped out to get Harry, remember?”  
“Yes,” Ron said blankly, and Hermione was sure he wasn’t taking in much of their conversation. Sighing, she sat down beside him and lifted her wand from the floor where she’d dropped it to comfort him.  
“Expecto Patronum!”  
The patronus streaked up to Harry’s bedroom. Ron flinched at the sudden light, and Hermione gently stroked his arm in wordless reassurance. In the quiet, she could hear her own voice speaking through the silver otter. “Harry, please come back, I need your help for a minute.”  
The sound of slamming feet preceded him as Harry came to them in a dead sprint. He paused, panting, looking wildly between the two of them.  
“I just need some help getting Ron to bed,” Hermione explained. “I didn’t think it was a good idea to use magic to move him.”  
“Of course.” Harry smiled in relief. “Come on, Ron, up you go.”  
Together, with one of them on each side, they managed to maneuver Ron into the room he and Hermione shared. Harry gave him a worried look before depositing him on the bed.  
“We’ll be fine,” Hermione promised. “Do we have any dreamless sleep potions left?”  
“A couple. I’ll get one.”  
“Thanks, Harry. Also please bring the dittany.”  
Ron was quiet while Harry did as she asked, his eyes never leaving her. Harry gave Ron a sympathetic look as he put the two bottles down on the bedside table. “See you in the morning, mate.”  
If Ron heard, he gave no sign of it, but Harry didn’t seem perturbed by this. The door clicked softly as he shut it on his way out.  
“Here, lie still.” Hermione pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and poured some dittany onto it, slowly working her way around Ron’s head, dabbing the dittany anywhere she could find broken skin. When she was done, she murmured “Aguamenti,” and used the now damp cloth to clean away excess blood.  
Hermione tried to force some brightness into her voice. “There we are, good as new.”  
She knew as well as Ron did that the true wounds couldn’t be so easily mended. Tugging the blankets over the two of them, Hermione lay down next to him, resting her head on his chest. Ron’s arms automatically came around her. His heart was still racing and his color wasn’t nearly back to what it should be. His eyes were troubled and far away.  
“Ron? You still with me?”  
His eyes met hers, and his expression cleared a little as he focused on her. “I’m here.”  
“I have a potion for dreamless sleep. You can rest without nightmares.”  
Ron shook his head vehemently. “I don’t want to sleep.” His arms tightened around her. Hermione understood. If Ron wanted to hold her all night, then she was more than happy to be held. She always welcomed his touch, though she would have much preferred it to be out of desire than fear.  
She leaned up, meeting his lips in a soft kiss. Ron sighed as he returned it, his tense body relaxing just a bit more.  
“If you fall asleep like this, I’m going to force that dreamless sleep down your throat,” she warned. “I don’t want you having nightmares, not tonight.”  
“I can hardly argue with that.” His arms around her tightened. “I wish it had been me. If I could have taken your place, I would have. A thousand times, I would have, without a thought.”  
“I know,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t have let you, though. I love you too much.”  
“I love you too, Hermione.”  
They shared another deep, slow kiss. At any other time, that kiss would have quickened her heart, but now Hermione thought only of comforting Ron. She tried to lighten the mood. “Of course, you haven’t faced the worst from that experience yet. What do you think George will say when he finds out I had to save you and Harry from a Boggart?”  
Her attempt worked, and Ron glared at her, though she could see the corners of his mouth twitching. “You wouldn’t.”  
“Then you’d best toe the line, Ronald Weasley, or I might just forget my silence.”  
He chuckled weakly. “I’ll do anything. Anything other than let you out of my sight for the rest of our lives.”  
That had her laughing too. “So that means you’ll be co-chairing S.P.E.W with me, then? After all, if you won’t let me out of your sight, you’ll be spending most of your time in S.P.E.W headquarters.”  
Ron groaned. “It has headquarters?”  
“Not yet, but it will. I’m writing to the Ministry about it.”  
“Spare me. I may yet go mad from boredom.”  
“Then I guess you’ll just have to be a more active member…” Hermione grinned as she teased him. Ron’s color was coming back as he smiled back at her. They’d both had a scare, but they’d be ok. Hermione knew they would. As long as they had each other, they’d be ok.

Harry  
Though Ron and Hermione didn’t know it, Harry lingered outside their room, not close enough to hear their words – he wanted to give them the privacy they obviously needed – but close enough to hear if they shouted for him.  
When he heard the soft, teasing tone of their voices and gentle laughter from both of them, he drew a deep breath and relaxed muscles he didn’t know he’d been keeping tense. The Boggart of Hermione had shaken him, but not nearly as much as Ron’s reaction. Harry knew that the wounds from the war would take time to fade, but seeing just how much his best friend was suffering over Hermione’s torture was more of a shock than he would have thought.  
He finally returned to his room, lighting the fire. Ginny was due from the Burrow tomorrow, but he felt a need to speak to her now, to hear her voice and see her face. Just looking into her eyes would be a comfort.  
Harry used his wand to light a fire and fished the box of Floo Powder out of the drawer. He dragged a cushion to the spot just before the fire to kneel on before throwing in the powder and sticking his head into the suddenly green flames.  
“The Burrow!”  
He closed his eyes against the spinning sensation, content that when he opened them, he’d be looking into Ginny’s warm brown ones. The fire crackled merrily around him, chasing away the last dregs of the cold fear he’d felt earlier.  
Harry reminded himself once more that the war was over, and that they were safe. Now was the time to pick up the pieces and move on with their lives. He wasn’t entirely sure how to do that – none of them were – but Harry was content in the knowledge that they had a lifetime to figure it out.


End file.
